


500 Miles

by wingedkiare



Series: Whiskey-Tango Verse [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Divergence, M/M, Post Season 8, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-06
Updated: 2013-06-06
Packaged: 2017-12-14 03:00:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/831929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wingedkiare/pseuds/wingedkiare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two Weeks after the Angels Fall, and there's still no sign of Cas.</p><p>
  <i>Charlie sighed, and Dean didn’t blame her- they’d had this conversation every day since the angels Fell.  “I’m running searches at every hospital and morgue I possibly can, and I haven’t found him.  But I was thinking about arrests.  I mean, if he’s alive and staying under the radar, he might have been picked up for vagrancy, right?”</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	500 Miles

_Two weeks after the Angels Fall._

“…more eggs. That last dozen went fast.” Charlie bumped against Dean, looking down at the grocery list. “You don’t need whiskey.”

“We’re out.”

Charlie shook her head. “I hid the extra bottles in my closet so that Kevin wouldn’t have anything to drink since he hates beer. I would have put them in your room, but he’d probably look there.”

“You’re a genius.” He crossed it off the list, glad that Charlie was trying to keep an eye out for Kevin. “Burgers tonight? I found a recipe for skillet fries that looked promising.”

“Sounds good. I’ll go check on Sam and take him his breakfast.”

“So, no news?”

Charlie sighed, and Dean didn’t blame her- they’d had this conversation every day since the angels Fell. “I’m running searches at every hospital and morgue I possibly can, and I haven’t found him. But I was thinking about arrests. I mean, if he’s alive and staying under the radar, he might have been picked up for vagrancy, right?”

Dean folded up the shopping list, shoving it into his pocket. “I never got to ask how he survived on the road all that time.”

She didn’t say anything else, just put her hand over his, which was fine. Sam would have just tried to make him talk about feelings, which was hard because Dean wasn’t certain how to even describe what was going on. He wasn’t mourning Cas, he’d already done that twice, and this was different. He just couldn’t shake the image of Cas plummeting towards Earth, dark wings burning up.

They were running out of options. Charlie had pulled up enough data to make a long list of possible angels, and an equally long list with photos of very dead angels. None of which were Cas.

“We’ll find your angel, I promise.”

 _His angel_. Part of him wanted to smile at that, but most of him hurt. There was a real possibility that Cas was dead, that whatever happened was like the trials to close Hell and required a sacrifice. “He ain’t mine, Charlie.”

She picked up the tray of food to take to Sam, eyebrow slightly raised. “If that’s what gets you through the day, Winchester.”

“If Chuck weren’t already dead, I would kill him for whatever he put in those fucking books,” he growled as he grabbed the keys to the Impala. “I’ll call when I park, okay?”

“Got it,” she said in a sing-song voice as she disappeared down the hall.

**

Forty-three minutes later, Dean began the walk back from the Impala's parking spot to the bunker, bags in hand. A bum was slumped near the bunker door, his filthy coat pulled up to block the midday sun. "Hey, man. You can't just sleep here- if the cops come by they'll..."

The coat slid down, and bright blue eyes looked up at him from underneath a mop of unruly dark hair. Dean’s mouth went dry, hoping that he wasn't just hallucinating memories of Cas from Purgatory.

"Dean." There was no mistaking that voice, even as rough as it sounded.

He dropped the bags, a small part of his brain worrying about the possibility of broken eggs, the rest of himself trying to keep calm. "Cas?"

Cas stood unsteadily, hands bracing himself against the bunker. "I tried to call, but the number I remembered is no longer in service.” He looked down, as uncomfortable and unsure as he had been in Purgatory when Dean had found him.

"I am so fucking glad to see you." Dean wrapped his arms around Cas in a tight hug, pinning Cas’s arms to his sides. Tight enough that he could feel Cas’s beard on his cheek, which was past the scratchy phase and starting to feel soft. “I was starting to think you were dead."

“No, just human." While Cas didn't return the hug, he did relax a little, which somehow felt weirder than when he was stiff. "I'm thirsty, too."

Dean let go of him, putting one hand on his shoulder in case he really was as weak as he looked. "You look like hell."

"I feel like it." He reached down for a duffle bag, and Dean realized Cas wasn't wearing his suit under the coat. He was wearing a well-worn light blue t-shirt and a pair of jeans that looked like they were going to rip at any minute. He was still wearing the same shoes, but they looked like they were about to fall apart.

The door to the bunker opened, and Charlie leaned against it to prop it open. “Sorry it took so long to get up here,” she froze the moment that she saw Castiel, almost as in much shock as she had been when Dean and Sam plowed into her life. Dean waited for some sort of quip, any sort of comment from Charlie, but she couldn’t stop staring.

Dean grinned. “Charlie, this is Cas. Cas, this is Charlie.” Neither said anything, but Charlie eventually smiled brightly. While Cas didn’t smile, he didn’t seem uncomfortable, leaving Dean feeling something an awful lot like happiness. After a moment, Charlie reached out to grab a few of the bags, her foot holding the door open.

“It is a pleasure,” Cas said quietly as he walked inside.

“Wow,” she looked at Dean, mouthing it again.

“Where is Sam?"

It was only natural for Cas to ask, but the feeling of joy vanished. “In bed. He has good days, where things seem like they're alright, and days like today where he doesn't get out of bed." He stopped himself and reached for the rest of the grocery bags, forcing a slight smile onto his face. "We'll figure it out. You fine with the stairs?"

“I’m not an invalid, just sore. I've been walking all morning," Cas said dryly.

Charlie kept pace with Cas, and it was clear she was trying to work through any number of things to say. “You’ve been a hard guy to track down.”

Cas turned to look at her. “You were looking for me?”

“Sure.” She smiled a little, glancing back at Dean. “We’ve been running searches, looking for anything that-”

“Hey, Cas,” Dean interrupted, not really wanting her to start mentioning all the dead angels that the searches had turned up. “I know you said you were thirsty, but are you hungry, too?” 

Cas shrugged, a gesture that looked awkward like he was still getting used to it, not taking his attention off of the redhead. “What searches?”

Charlie glanced at Dean again, before heading into the kitchen with the grocery bags. “We can talk later. You’ve gotta be exhausted.” She patted him on the back as she walked past. “I think I’ll see if Sam’s feeling up to playing some CoD.”

Cas lingered in the doorway to the kitchen long after Charlie’s footsteps faded, and Dean took the opportunity to start putting away the groceries. “Eggs and toast okay?” Only one of the eggs had cracked when he’d dropped the bags, which was a relief.

“I never said I was hungry.”

“And I’m willing to bet you’ve been ignoring it so that you could just keep moving.” He smirked as Cas’s stomach growled. “Glad to see some things haven’t changed.” After Pestilence, he and Sam had needed to put food in front of the angel. Cas was always putting the mission first.

"You remember that?" The dark haired man sat at the small kitchen table.

Dean forced out a laugh to keep himself from saying something ridiculous. Of course he remembered. He remembered everything about that year. "Yeah." He grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, setting it in front of Cas. He grabbed the butter dish from the table, carrying it back to the counter. "Scrambled fine?"

"I think so." Cas stared at the bottle of water, his gaze a little unfocused.

"That's how Sam orders eggs, where they're all mixed up. I like mine over easy where the yolk doesn't set, but not everyone gets it right when they make ‘em. Scrambled's a safe bet," Dean explained as he turned the heat on under the skillet, putting a pat of butter in to melt.

"Then scrambled is fine."

Dean cracked the eggs into a bowl, scrambling them with a fork. Cas looked like he was on the verge of saying something, his lips pursed slightly. "So."

"Metatron stole my Grace," Cas said quietly.

Dean stopped mixing the eggs to season them. He'd assumed that Cas had Fallen with the rest of the angels, that his wings had burned and he'd been left in a crater. It hadn't occurred to him that anything else could have happened.

"I didn't even get to suffer the same fate as everyone else. I woke up in a forest, and watched my brothers and sisters Fall. I... I failed everyone." Cas's normally steady voice was shaky, and Dean could tell there was a lot more there.

"Hey," Dean said. “Don’t go down that road.” The butter in the pan melted, so Dean poured the eggs in, watching them carefully. He knew exactly how Cas felt. He’d spent the last two weeks blaming himself for Sam’s condition- for letting them plow ahead without understanding if there would be any consequences. As much as he wanted to blame himself for not making Cas stay, it had been something Cas needed to do. "We're still trying to figure out exactly what happened, so we can figure out a plan.” The bottom of the eggs had started to set, and Dean swirled the spatula through it, moving it slowly.

"You think this can be fixed?" Cas might have tried to make it general, but Dean could hear that he wanted to know if he could be fixed.

“I don’t think it’s impossible. I mean, if he stole your Grace, it means it’s still around.” Dean wanted to turn around but he kept his focus on the eggs, moving the spatula, waiting for that moment when they were still soft, but cooked through. In a way he was relieved that Cas was human now, because otherwise Cas would probably know every stupid thought going through his head. "Shit. I forgot about the toast."

"That's fine," Cas said quietly.

"No way. I mean, start off with these, because scrambled eggs aren't good cold. But I'll put the toast in now." He scraped the eggs onto a plate, turning and setting it in front of Cas. "Don't think I forgot all the times you stole toast off my plate. I'd be an asshole if I didn't make it."

Cas began eating, his brow furrowed almost as though eating eggs required complete concentration. Dean wanted to ask about the last two weeks- about everything, but it wasn't the time.

"Eggs alright?" The toast popped up, and he grabbed it from the toaster, cutting both pieces in half.

"They're good, Dean." He smiled a little when Dean put the toast down and sat down in the chair closest to Cas. "Thank you.”

“Anytime. Just glad you’re home, Cas.” _Here._ Dean had meant to say here.

Cas’s smile widened. He didn’t say anything, just went back to eating the eggs. But it was enough. 

Home had been the right word after all.

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of a larger-verse, and I'll be adding to it bit by bit, none of which will be in chronological order. (If you like, you can find me on Tumblr, I tend to post stuff there first- wingedkiare.tumblr.com)
> 
> Title comes from:  
> I'm Gonna Be (500 Miles) by The Proclaimers


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